In the Interim
by Hermia S
Summary: Being forced to sit in a brig for weeks on end may lead to a slow descent into madness for some, but Shepard doesn't mind the waiting as much as James Vega seems to. You can find out so much about a person by what they do during their downtime.
1. The Babysitter

**A/N:** Hello again! It's been a while since I posted anything Mass Effect-related, but I figured now was as good a time as any, considering the approach of ME3. Also, my attention's been snagged pretty thoroughly by a new Shepard _and_ James Vega. Which is what brought this on. I just wanted to apologize for any issues with the plot once the game is released. I've read some of the beta script, so I feel like I have_ enough_ of a handle on James' character to write him, but there's always a possibility that I may be off on my characterization since I haven't played the final product. So if that ends up being the case, I'm sorry, and I'll fix it once I start writing the main fic with these two post-release!

That said, this is going to be on the shorter side, a look at the "several" weeks Shepard spent in the brig on Earth during the investigation, which is all I really feel comfortable writing without the knowledge of what happens in-game! (I'm trying not to look at any major plot spoilers, but that's not working out well for me.) Also also, Vega definitely _won't_ be the only character I'll write for. There will definitely be more Shepard/Garrus and Shepard/Thane in the near future. And Shepard/Kaidan!

So. Yeah. Sorry for this super long A/N. There was just a lot I had to say before getting into it!

Enjoy!

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><p>Payton Shepard's memories of Vancouver were spotty at best, weathered by a problematic long-term memory and an inability to translate her own childish thoughts after so many years.<p>

Everything was changed. Earth itself seemed larger, which was funny considering she was barely three feet tall the first time she saw the sphere of blue and green and gray from space. Even with almost three decades under her belt since, looking over the spaceport with eyes that had seen far grander venues than this, she felt the pull of Earth's familiar gravity with a rush of warmth right down to every finger and toe.

While it wasn't her home, the dirt packed beneath the cement and steel under her feet was a symbol of that very thing, and she held a certain respect for the living metaphor now that she was older. Even if said metaphor was a cliche even the Alliance barely used in recruitment vids anymore.

Joker flanked her left, and Tali trailed just behind both of them, her steps shorter and less measured due to her almost frantic curiosity. Her omni-tool was already alight and shining a clear, orange glow onto the ramp leading them away from the Normandy, making quick work of the shadows cast at their feet by a setting sun. But they weren't late arriving. They were early, a fact that no one would be pleased to hear.

If you were early, you still weren't on time, and punctuality was important to the Alliance. As was a pressed uniform in blue and gold and a regulation haircut, both of which Payton had in lock.

Landing on Earth looking disheveled wasn't an option, though Chakwas made a point that it would help if she ever wanted to travel incognito. After all, no one would expect the illustrious, straight-backed and solemn-faced Commander Shepard to be the woman in a rumpled dress slouched over some neon-colored asari liquor with her hair in her eyes.

While the idea was attractive, especially considering she never got that celebration she was promised after the last big mission, she knew it was impossible. An investigation by the Alliance's Defense Committee wasn't something she would shirk under any circumstances.

"Earth is _amazing_, Shepard," Tali chimed in, effectively drawing everyone's attention away from their walk down the windowed corridor towards the main building. "I can't explain it. It's got everything Ilium has, but there's something humble about the architecture. And there's still green. You don't see much vegetation outside of sparsely inhabited garden planets and my peoples' Liveships."

Payton cracked a grin. "I think the gardens are accents to our 'humble' architecture," she said as she waited for Tali to catch up with her. When they were in stride again, the glow of Tali's omni-tool blinked out. "There isn't much left here. They only started growing things once we were able to spread out. Overpopulation is still a problem - I wager it always is on home planets - but at least they have elbow room now."

This time it was Jeff who spoke up. "Not much if they're planting trees all over the place."

"I still think it's beautiful," Tali clarified, the distinct huff in her voice lighting up her mouthpiece. Turning her attention back towards Payton, the clear white lights beneath the mask squinted, almost as if her cheeks were pressing up into them from the width of her smile and Joker's slight was ignored. "Did you come here often? Was it always like this? It doesn't seem as crowded as I thought it would be."

"I didn't, though I wish I had." The three of them paused for a moment as the door they were pointed towards whisked open, letting them through. "Everything's... bigger now. More open. Elbow room, like I said."

There was one thing that hadn't changed, something she remembered even as a five year old tagging behind her mother's purposefully shortened steps. Everything about the system of hallways they stepped into could be described in a single word: clean.

The walls were slick silver to match the darker floors. The curved emblem of the Systems Alliance emblazoned on the walls in thick strips of navy above a circle just detailed enough to be recognized as Earth. All around them, men and women moved this way and that, but very few of them stopped. They walked with purpose. On the rare occasion someone looked to Tali, they were surprised to see a quarian standing in their way, but they moved on soon after. Nothing was said; no other looks were exchanged.

"I should have waited back on the Normandy," Tali murmured, only barely close enough for Payton to hear. "Or maybe outside. I only wanted to walk with -"

"No." Payton's interruption stopped them almost in the very center of the hallway, one that was luckily filled with very little through traffic. "You'll be fine. You're my crew, and the Normandy's on lockdown now anyway. You wanted to see the sights before going back to the Flotilla, so that's what you're getting."

Tali's head dipped before she nodded. "Thank you."

Joker broke off from the group with a sincere drawl of, "good luck," before heading into processing to clear up things with the Normandy, his own omni-tool lighting up around his wrist. She could hear him asking EDI about the situation as the doors whooshed closed behind him. He wasn't happy about them chaining his girl up, especially not knowing that they could get to the ship's AI with all of their stuffy rules against the programs. There wasn't a doubt that they would gut her as far as he was concerned, and that would be a death rivaling the incineration of the first Normandy. Sort of.

That left Tali and Shepard to face the walk alone; for a while, at least, before they were intercepted along yet another practically sterile hallway by a woman with a professional chop of brown hair and a tiny, quavering smile that spoke volumes about the frenzy caused by Payton's early arrival.

She introduced herself as Juliet Clarke. She was in charge of relations between the Alliance and alien dignitaries and had been put in charge of the former commander "for the time being."

"What do you mean by that?" Shepard asked the woman as she was conducted into a room marked 'detention center' in all capital letters. Juliet glanced over her shoulder, but before she could ask what she meant by the question, Payton continued. "For the time being."

"Ah! Yes." Juliet's fingers flew over the orange interface as she moved quickly around the room, making absolute sure that everything was not only in place but as clean as clean could get. "Admiral Anderson has found someone to watch over you. Nothing too intense, mind you. The Committee has a vested interest in keeping you here, safe and secure, for as long as you're needed."

Payton looked to Tali just as the young quarian turned towards her. A sudden spark of confusion fizzled between the two; the former due to her surprise, and the latter to her knowledge of Shepard being impossible to look after. "The admiral found me a... what? A guard?"

"Hmm... yes, I suppose you would call him that."

The expression on Payton's face changed suddenly, her eyes narrowing beneath the downward shift of her thick brows.

She'd traveled to Earth for an investigation. Everyone who knew even the slightest detail of her service history knew she wouldn't abandon ship, not on the Alliance and not now, a truth obvious even through the discrepancies littering the past year. Her loyalty was so obvious, it might have been scribbled onto her forehead. "Well, do you know anything about him? I don't want to be chained at the ankle to some man I don't know."

"If you give me half an hour, I'll tell you everything you need to know to trust my decision, Shepard. I like to believe chains won't be necessary."

All three of the women twisted towards the rich and familiar voice of Admiral David Anderson. He stood in the doorway, arms behind his back where one hand clasped the wrist of the other. It was Juliet who spoke first. "You have impeccable timing, admiral. Shepard only just arrived."

"I have no idea how he does it," Tali murmured from her place near the window. Her comment brought a small smile to Payton's lips. That was true enough. When Anderson wanted to be quiet, he could be a shade. That level of skill and the added distraction of what Payton would consider a complication was just enough for him to walk in undetected.

"Mrs. Clarke," Anderson nodded towards the representative. "I'd appreciate it if you gave me a moment with Shepard alone."

Juliet parted with a smile, and she swerved past Anderson with ease. The admiral looked to Tali next. "Oh. Right." The quarian looked back and forth between him and her captain, finally deciding on a quiet, "I'll... wait outside." She hurried past both of them and out of the exit, stopping outside of the room. Payton could have sworn she heard Tali greet someone, but Anderson moved towards her before she could listen any harder.

"You brought me a babysitter?"

Anderson arched a brow. "Well, hello to you, too, Shepard. You know, I remember when you were still courteous. Those were good days."

"I was also an ass-kissing serviceman." Payton pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "Sorry. I just wasn't expecting to get here only to find out I'm going to be monitored. Really? _Monitored_? Who is it? Why is he necessary? It's not like I don't know how to sit in a room and behave. I did enough of that after -"

Lifting up both hands, Anderson silenced her with a half-hearted smile. "For appearance's sake only. I trust you, but the Committee isn't exactly buying what you're selling. Which I hope you'll understand."

Payton's sigh deflated her, wide shoulders sliding down beneath the weight that only seemed to increase by the second. "Of course I understand. What I've done doesn't look good on paper. I get that. I just wasn't expecting any of this." Turning around, she moved over to the bed and sat on the foot of it. The mattress was firm, even by Alliance standards. It would be a bitch to sleep on. "I was expecting to get here, get my slap on the wrist, and have them tell me to stick to the Terminus."

"They're not the Council, Payton. This is different. This is a _lot_ bigger."

"Why? Because I didn't save _their_ asses? Should I look into that?"

There was no acid in her tone. No bitter edge, no sarcasm. But there was exhaustion written everywhere - in the downward curve of her shoulders, in the pale purple bags beneath her eyes and the almost faded blue above. A pang of misgiving rang out between his ribs. He'd seen her like this before, but it was another time. And, he had assumed, another Shepard.

Anderson shifted on his feet, a noticeable movement towards the door, but he stayed. He stayed to offer some measure of support. God knows she needed it. "So I'm guessing you still don't know the meaning of the words _political shitstorm_?"

"No, sir." Payton breathed out a chuckle. "I tried to look them up once I got back on the Normandy, but I got distracted by all the pretty pictures."

The two shared a smile, their eye contact only broken when Anderson glanced towards the door. "I want you to meet your babysitter," he said, the amused light still in his eyes though his voice dropped to a more serious tone. He watched as she stood suddenly, long-fingered hands smoothing over her blues as she straightened her back. Everything for the sake of appearance. He wasn't sure whether he should be sad or proud of her. Deciding that it would be best not to choose, he called out a crisp, "Lieutnant!" instead.

The lieutenant in question stopped cut his stilted conversation with the quarian short the moment he heard Anderson's shout, striding through the door without so much as a nod. He was only an inch or two taller than Payton, but both she and Anderson felt practically dwarfed by him when his width was taken into account. Tattooed with a strip of longer hair curving over his skull through a buzz cut, he wasn't what she had expected.

She'd expected someone like Alenko and gotten... well, she didn't know what she'd gotten, as everyone was a largely unknown quantity until they opened their mouth.

When he did just that, Payton found herself grasping for what few straws she had left at hand. Again, her expectations fell short, and it was his voice that forced her to take into account everything else as he stood in front of her. She wasn't used to having her meaningless little judgments thrown aside so quickly. She was usually good at that sort of thing.

In her mind, the voice that would come out of him would only serve to highlight the wide set of his jaw and the dark, braided tattoo that clung to his neck and bicep. But when he spoke, all sincere and polite, she found herself discarding the assumptions herself.

"James Vega," he said, hands held at his side and his eyes locked onto hers. Eye contact was important when speaking to the higher ups. Everyone knew that. And even though Shepard wasn't technically any higher up than he was now, he felt going to those lengths were necessary. "It's good to finally meet you."

"Where are you from, soldier?"

It wasn't rare for Payton to assume that certain people were well-acquainted with her. The idea of her, at least. In this case, she wasn't wrong. Not even a little.

"Earth," he replied, simply and without the _ma'am_ most would consider customary.

Payton nodded, her eyes flicking up above his to the bandage taped securely to his brow. There was no blotted blood beneath it, so the wound must have been healed, covered to make sure everything closed well enough. "Did you two encounter trouble on your way here?"

"It was my trouble," James said without missing a beat, though Anderson's open mouth made it look more like an interruption than an answer. "Nothing important. It'll heal."

"So... was it a long ride?"

Anderson looked to James before answering her question, a silent ploy to get shut him up for the time being. The lieutenant gave a short nod, and that was enough. "He was on Omega. I was there and back in a day at the most, but we weren't expecting you until tomorrow. So you can imagine my surprise when I got word you were on your way."

"I don't care for waiting around, even though it looks like that's what I'll be doing here."

"Not all of the time, Shepard," Anderson said, as if she needed to be reminded. "I expect the committee will want to question you eventually, once they've finished pouring over the information they have. Again."

Payton's only reply was a quiet _mm_ of agreement, folding her arms under her chest.

"We'll talk again soon," he continued. "There's a lot we have to prepare for when it comes to this investigation, though I'm sure you're well aware of that. But first, you should settle in. I'll find somewhere for Tali to bunk -"

"She can stay here with me." Wetting her bottom lip, Payton shook her head at the suggestion. She remembered the welcome Tali got in the hallways, the way it made her uncomfortable to be in a place with only humans that operated outside of the Citadel Council's control. "There's no way I'm letting someone whisk her away when she's my responsibility. Young adult or not, she's part of my crew. I can handle setting her up here."

Anderson nodded at that. He knew better than to argue with Shepard about any member of her squad. She was already fierce, but she bordered upon ferocious when she thought anyone she considered her charge was in danger or even moderately uncomfortable. "Very well. Lieutenant, you'll be in the attached room. Just that way and to your right. Your things should be there already."

Looking to Payton, the corners of Anderson's eyes crinkled in a smile. "It's good to see you on solid ground again, Shepard. Let's hope it stays that way for a while."

"Don't count on it," she chuckled, rubbing the back of her wrist over her forehead.

Both of them seemed to have forgotten James was standing there for the time being, but that didn't stop him from watching Shepard carefully. He had to clear his head, even despite its pounding. Personal bias couldn't get in the way of what he was dragged there to do. Even if the assignment wasn't one he would have chosen himself, it was still an assignment.

It was Payton's turn to smile, a dimple carving high into her cheek. "I'll likely be here for a few days before someone, somewhere needs me."

"Be that as it may, you're needed here now." Anderson took in a long breath through his nose and released it with a sigh. "Get some rest, Shepard. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

When Anderson was gone and Tali stepped back into the room, the door to the brig was shut and locked with a swipe of James' omni-tool. No one had to tell any of the three it was time to settle down, to take a page out of the sun's book and sink down beneath something cool and dark to sleep until it's needed again. A promise of sleep tugged them through the motions - cleaning up, brushing their teeth, and dragging them back in the direction of their beds.

The day ended with Tali on one side of the bed and Payton on the other, both carefully positioned but surprisingly not awkward. On the other side, in the attached bedroom, James Vega rested on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

He and Shepard fell asleep wondering what this arrangement meant for the both of them.


	2. On his Own Time

**A/N:** I just want to thank you guys for the review and the alerts. :) It's great incentive to know that there are a few of you who have plans to keep up with this fic. Merci!

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><p>"You have..."<p>

James Vega stared at her from across the table, elbows resting against the edge as his arms drooped forward and brought the improvised meatball sandwich down away from his face. After having all of her meals with him for the past two days, she was learning how he operated when it came to the cafeteria. He picked and chose until he found what he needed inside of something else, which he must have been doing for years while with the Alliance. It was impressive.

"You have red sauce on your cheek," Payton finished, skewering some lettuce onto her fork. Her lips twisted to the side in a small smile, eyeing him as he lifted his napkin to his face and wiped off the smear of red without fussing around. "So... what's on our itinerary for the day?"

James waited until he was finished chewing to reply. "Nothing besides your meeting with Anderson, as far as I know. And he's probably just checking up on you, seeing if you're settling in alright."

Which she was, surprisingly enough. After a brief hiccup the first day, when the two of them had been forced to scour the headquarters for something Tali could eat without having an allergic reaction, things were going smoothly. Tali was enjoying herself; once Juliet returned to the room, apologizing for the lack of dextro-friendly cuisine courses at hand, she was allowed to visit a few of the gardens here and there around the compound.

Payton spent most of the first afternoon in the brig, checking and responding to her messages under the watchful eye of the lieutenant, but the next week would be different. The committee had important matters other than her investigation, which would give her enough time to show Tali around Vancouver. The quarian didn't mind Vega, so his constant supervision wouldn't be a problem.

Nodding, she helped herself to another bite of salad. "What I want to know is exactly how much is happening here." She set her fork down and wiped her hands needlessly on her napkin. "I know Udina covered for the Council and that the Committee knows the truth of what happened, which is why I didn't expect to be waiting here for so long. Considering the potential ramifications for my actions."

"This is the Alliance, ma'am. It's their professional obligation to make a mountain out of a mole hill, and they've got a _lot_ of mole hills to cover."

Payton chuckled. "That sounds like experience talking."

James' shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. "Maybe," he said as he dug a bite out of the dispensable container of cottage cheese on his tray. "All I know is that the Committee'll get to you. The batarians know better than to come sniffing in this system, but that's not going to stop them from figuring out how to get back at you for what happened."

There was so much about that mission not available for public consumption. The batarians were shouting genocide while Udina shouted right back that the Council had nothing to do with the so-called "attack." But it was what the councilor _wasn't_ saying that rang the loudest.

The batarians blamed _her_. They called _her_ the terrorist. They wanted _her_ blood for compensation. Udina was quick to defend the Council, just as quickly as he left her dead in the water.

She wished she could be surprised.

That said, she was under investigation. The two years she spent pursuing a degree in poli-sci before enlisting weren't wasted on her. She knew that, when everything came down to it, mum was the word until the Committee reached its decision. Details on what went down in the Bahak system were on a need to know basis, and there wasn't anyone on this rock besides the Committee who needed to know.

No one needed to know about that desperate call for the batarians to evacuate the system, how it was cut off before she could give the warning, how she had to make a snap decision between saving the lives of a few hundred thousand and staggering the arrival of the Reapers.

Only a handful of people knew about the ticker, about how the Reapers were only minutes away from entering the Terminus, and _no one else _knew the feeling of watching that number decrease.

Drawing up her cup of water for a long sip, Payton glanced around the cafeteria. Every now and then, she caught a glimpse of someone looking at her, but their eyes moved away just as soon as they made contact. Their stares weren't suspicious or angry or anything like that; curious, maybe, even though none of them ever spoke up. It was familiar; once people knew who she was and what she'd accomplished, this was the recognition she received.

Aside from the uncommon superfan and the occasional medal or Alliance recruitment advertisement, it was all looks or nods or smiles or discreet 'thank you's and nothing more. She actually preferred it that way.

"So where do you stand on the whole ordeal, if you don't mind my asking?"

James' eyes moved up from his plate to her face, and she could see that he was considering the high road, if only for the briefest of moments. The high road was the careful one, safe and secure and one that wouldn't inevitably lead to Anderson giving this job over to someone else. But in the end, he chose the more dangerous path, the one paved with personal bias. This one was comfortable, even if he knew he could get in deep shit for taking this route. He was never anything but completely honest; why change that now?

Wiping at his mouth again, he crumpled the napkin and set it in the corner of his tray. "I think the Committee's stalling. If they knew what they were doing, you'd be in and out of here within a few days. There's no reason for you to be sitting in the brig when you could be out there." He leaned heavily on his arms, both folded in on each other on top of the table. "The batarians are holding one hell of a stupid grudge. They hit Elysium and Torfan, and what do we get? Nothing. They hit _our_ colonies and all we get is an excuse, or a reprimand for building out in the Terminus."

"Our losses are... vast, but they lost a very large number of their people in a very short amount of time. Of course they're angry. I spent a good deal of the past months pissed off because of that very reason."

"So if it was someone else, would toss them out like a piece of meat to the batarians? Because that's what they want the Committee to do."

"Trust me," Payton said, though her words were more of a sigh than anything else. "I know what they want. I've dealt with them before, and I know how their species can be. I'm only saying that, from their angle, I understand why they're out for my blood. Not that I'm telling you or the Committee or the Council or anyone to do just that. It's a matter of perspective."

But James didn't budge. He wanted his answer, more out of interest than suspicion.

"Yes. I would." He didn't seem to believe her, shifting forward like he did, brows pinching down above his nose. "From a completely objective standpoint, not knowing what I know and only what the Committee believes to be true, handing me over to the batarians is the most logical path."

Folding her hands in her lap, Payton stared across at him, her expression just earnest enough to show she was telling the truth as she believed it. "They're more likely to avoid a war - one that actually may be inescapable - that way than if they keep me here on Earth. With the added stress of the Reapers, the last thing they need is a war, and I'm just one person. No one person is actually worth that much trouble, no matter what everyone would lead you to believe."

"I have a hard time agreeing with you on that," James said. "One person can do a lot of good. I mean, they're capable of doing a lot of damage, but they can fix it, too. You have to know that."

Payton smiled. The shift in her expression was slight, but it was there and it was enough to bare one row of teeth. "Of course I believe it, and so does the Committee. But when has a group of humans gotten together and come up with any decision other than, 'What's best for us?'" Tilting her head to the side, she gave a half-hearted shrug. "You asked me what I would do, if someone else was in my shoes. I certainly wouldn't be willing to forgive the death of over four hundred thousand batarians without hard evidence of a distress call. Which... well, there isn't any." She leaned forward a little. "What would you do?"

"Keep them safe." James leaned back away from the table, but his hands lingered at the very edge of it, palms digging in just there. "_Screw_ the batarians. We need every capable marine we have right now, and you've seen more action than some of our Admirals. I wouldn't put an asset like you into the hands of those blood-thirsty criminals. And you're the only one who's seen the Prothean vision. Everyone and their mother can say it's bullshit, but I don't believe that for a second."

One of Payton's eyebrows arched high on her forehead, and James took a long, even breath, letting his hands fall away from the table. "A soldier like you is _worth_ a little retaliation, I think. Commander. Ma'am."

"I didn't realize the Prothean vision was common knowledge."

James' mouth fell open, if only slightly, as everything he'd said finally clicked into place. He talked; he talked and he didn't realize it until the last of the explanation left his lips and it was all said and done. It was one of his more prominent flaws. "I... it's not. To most of us, at least. I didn't know about it until recently myself."

For a long moment, he could feel the question between them. Anyone else might have asked how he came upon that kind of information. _Why_? is what she asked him, but with the curious, barely there narrow of her eyes and the tilt of her head, not words. She knew that anyone could get any information for the right price, but James didn't seem to be the sort of man who'd go after dirt on her for the wrong reasons. And if you looked long enough, she knew the answers could be found in plain sight. But why would he be willing to look so hard?

When she opened her mouth, he expected her to ask him that very thing. Those expectations were left disappointed.

"I should go." Shifting forward in her chair, Payton's hands went to her tray. "I should have been meeting with Anderson all of ten minutes ago. Thank you, though. For the conversation." She got to her feet, shooting him a polite smile. He couldn't help but think the tug at the corner of her mouth looked unsure, like she wasn't all there. "It's definitely something to think about."

Not ten minutes later, Payton _was_ thinking about what was said. Sitting in front of Anderson's wide desk, watching him finish a message to the Council, she thought about it, about how quickly James jumped into those shoes, about how he'd become almost intense when defending her from _herself_.

There were questions unanswered. There always was something happening behind the curtain, something no one told her, something actively omitted. While not knowing the full truth bothered her, she knew it was a necessary evil. No person could shoulder every angle, every opinion, and every possibility - they would go insane in a second.

When Anderson turned towards her, however, the first words spoken between the two of them wasn't a greeting.

"I want to know more about James Vega."

A smile broke out onto Anderson's face for no longer than a second. His expression shifted back to serious when he saw Shepard's lack of amusement. "What do you want to know?" Lacing his fingers together, Anderson leaned on his desk. She figured it would be simple - getting answers out of Anderson. Finding out the truth from her old friend was simple. It was a finely tuned skill by then. "Have you asked him?"

"Mm... no," she replied. "Prying - _directly_, at least - wouldn't lead to any answers to the kind of questions I have, and it would be too obvious if I looked myself."

"Then ask away." Anderson leaned back in his chair. "But don't expect me to answer if they're too... invasive. James should answer those sorts of questions in his own time. And you should ask them to his face; it's only right."

Payton sat forward, hands on her knees. "I want to know how he knows about the Prothean vision."

"How? Anyone has the means to find anything in this day and age. All it takes is initiative."

"Why then?"

Anderson's reply stalled on his tongue. As he'd grown to expect, Shepard dived right into the matter at hand. Niceties were shared after she got what she wanted, if she got the information. Hannah Shepard would be appalled at her daughter's inherent lack of manners when she was on a mission. But what good was diplomacy among friends?

Pulling himself up out of his chair, a few steps was all it took to bring him to the wide window that wrapped around the back of his office. The view had nothing on Udina's office on the Citadel, but it was still beautiful. Beautiful and _familiar_, which was the deciding factor in the location's worth - to Anderson, at least.

"That's the sort of question you should ask him."

He heard a quiet huff at his back, but she didn't move. She didn't stand up or leave or do anything but breathe. "I want to know what interest he has in my service history. I deserve to know that much."

"You should empathize," Anderson told her. "No one - man or woman - appreciates people digging around in their past to find the root of their issues." Turning around, he crossed his arms. Even though he looked down his nose at her, it seemed to be more of a chastisement than condescension. The look made her resolve wither at the edges. "You didn't like it when I went snooping around, and you felt a hell of a lot better about the situation when you chose to speak to me about it by your own volition."

Payton stared up at him, stare unwavering until she broke away from the contact to narrow her eyes at the floor beneath her feet. After a bout of silence, she rolled her shoulders back and shifted her gaze towards his again. "So you want me to wait." Anderson nodded. "Until he takes it on himself to explain. You realize this kind of unknown -"

"No." His sudden interruption made Payton's eyebrows knit inward. And though his intrusion had taken her momentarily unaware, his voice remained nothing more than firm. "You've spent the past months on a mission where the only known quantities aboard the Normandy were Garrus, Tali, and Mr. Moreau. Everyone else was either volatile or working with Cerberus." Moving forward, Anderson planted his hands on his desk. "James Vega is an Alliance soldier. He's been through hell, and he admires you for what you've done and what you've been through. What I want you to do is not question my decision of bringing him here."

"I do trust you," Payton shot back. "But you can hardly expect me, after all that's happened, to just accept that someone knows something like that because they did a quick extranet search. My squad has handed me problem after problem, and I do not need that right now. I don't have that kind of time."

She watched as Anderson sat back down, watched as he laced his fingers again and watched as he watched her. She knew he wasn't going to say anything; the fact that she wasn't entirely finished was clear as day to the both of them.

Payton shook her head. "I just need you to tell me that you trust him."

"I do."

"Is that all?"

"Is it? You're the one with the questions. I only wanted to know how you were settling in."

There was a long stretch of quiet between them, only broken when Payton gave an almost hoarse laugh, her head dipping down into her palm. "I'm just - I'm settling in fine." Her hand drooped downward, arm falling across her legs. "I don't know how I managed to survive through everything only to let this kind of paranoia hit me the second I'm planetside. On _Earth_, no less."

"It happens to the best of us," Anderson assured her good-naturedly. "Even so, I'm not about to apologize for the tough love."

"Yes, sir," she said with a smile. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Anderson contemplated the question for a while before nodding. "You and Vega have a lot in common," he began, "so I don't want you to make any assumptions. Think you can handle that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Leaning back in his chair, Anderson gave a little smile of his own as Payton stood up. "Enjoy your stay. Mrs. Clarke will make you as comfortable as possible. Your _babysitter_ should help with that, too, if only so you don't cause any trouble."

"I'm going to find out," she told him, raising a pointed index. "Whether it's from you or from him."

Anderson nodded. "On his own time."

Payton knew all too well that she had no other choice in the matter. Prying information out of people first hand only led to them snapping at you or lying or refusing to say a word. If she wanted to know what it was that she and James Vega had in common, she had to wait, to bide her time and hope that the truth of it would come out.

"On his own time," Payton echoed, taking two steps backwards before turning around and exiting Anderson's office.


	3. Fish, Bugs, and Other Small Things

Stepping out of the psychologist's quaint, non-descript office was comforting. The air in the hallway was no different, but breathing seemed easier when each inhalation wasn't taken under the watchful eyes of an Alliance doctor. Sitting there for a solid two hours with the Admiral at the back of the room wasn't what she'd call fun.

But a sigh of relief caught in Payton's throat when she saw the look on Anderson's face. "What is it?"

"That didn't go well," he explained, and her brows to shoot up on her forehead. Years had passed since the last time someone told her a psych evaluation hadn't "gone well," and that was another time entirely.

"Excuse me?"

Anderson chuckled under his breath. "No need to panic." He matched her stride with no problem, and they made their way in the direction of the detention center. "You've made things even more difficult on the Committee, being the stable, well-rounded individual that you are. It would have been a lot easier to write you and this 'tragedy' off as a mistake if you were clinically insane."

Payton's eyes widened a little, but she said nothing. She expected something along those lines, but she hadn't anticipated that to be the initial goal.

"Which, obviously, isn't the case," he continued with a smile that wrinkled the skin around his eyes. "I have no idea how you got in and out of there without reducing that doctor to tears, not after everything you've been through."

"Wait, he didn't cry? I had a running bet with Tali that he'd at least tear up," she replied, her amusement entwined in her words and not written on her face. "Looks like I owe her a few credits. Damn."

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the brig. Anderson was a busy man, but he remained there, idling near the door once she entered. He hadn't excused Vega for a few hours for no reason. He and Payton had few opportunities to speak, and this was one of them. Nothing would force him back behind his desk after what he'd heard in there.

Crossing over to the en suite living area, Anderson sat down on the very edge of the couch, hands finding his knees as he looked across at Payton. She stared back at him from the foot of her bed, dressed in perfectly pressed Alliance blues as was expected of her. Nothing that was said that day seemed to ruffle her, not by the look of the smile dig into the corner of her mouth.

"I knew about the crew, but when were you going to tell me about Jacob Taylor? I didn't know you lost any of your squad behind the Relay."

Even that didn't make the smile go away, though the skin around Payton's eyes seemed to tighten. She stood up, turning around and walking towards the catch-all table beside the bed. She grabbed for something to tie her hair back, but the black band circled her index fingers instead, pulled taught and twisted as she turned on her heel to shift her attention back to Anderson's question.

"I wasn't intentionally withholding information," she explained. "There were... personal reasons at first, but that's no longer an issue."

"And is that all?"

Payton nodded as she stopped halfway across the room to tie her hair back in a low-hanging ponytail. "I left nothing out when I was talking to the psychologist." She let out a breath of a laugh. "Though I feel like you made him more uncomfortable than I did. If permission for you to listen in wasn't scribbled on my medical records, you might've been sitting outside with your ear to the door."

Anderson laughed, palming over his knee before lifting the same hand to give the back of his neck a brief massage. "I don't exactly have the clout I'm used to here. It should be Udina, but... well, I'm glad it's not."

"Trust me, so am I."

"But you're okay," Anderson said, though the statement was shadowed by a hint of question.

Again, she nodded. "I'm okay. He died for a cause, to stop the Collectors from trying to hit Earth. What better cause is there?"

"Don't get me wrong. There is none, but you've lost a lot of -"

"I have," Payton interrupted, "but Ashley was different. Jacob was different. Everything about these losses is different. They're on my shoulders, which is... surprisingly enough, a hell of a lot easier to take."

Anderson nodded before standing up. "You're well-versed in cliche by now, but it's gotten worse than we expected. A lot worse. So it's bound to get better eventually." Stopping right in front of her, he reached out, settling his hands on her shoulders. "I find it's easier putting on that uniform every day if that's what I'm telling myself."

"So is that the truth, or just something to help me get out of bed in the morning?"

Even standing so close to her, he couldn't tell if she was teasing or not.

Without removing his hands from her shoulders, Anderson shrugged his own. "Just advice. Take it how you will. You might as well let yourself have a little optimism for the struggles ahead."

"Got it." Payton tilted her chin down before wrapping her arms around his waist, knees bent a little to make up for the differences in their height. It felt like ages since she'd gotten a hug, when only a few months before, she ended up in this very position, though she hadn't been at liberty to actually embrace him in full armor. "Thank you. For not wanting me to be a nutcase because it would make your life easier."

Anderson quaked in her arms with a laugh, his own arms barred around her shoulders. "If you'd cracked under pressure, my life would be a nightmare. And then I'd end up throwing Udina off of the balcony in his office for trash talking you."

"Oh, God, could you imagine?" Snickering, Payton took a step back, hands smoothing over her uniform on reflex alone. Once she was content, she lifted a hand and began ticking off each indiscretion on her fingers, "I never should have been cleared for duty after Akuze. If not then, certainly not after the ordeal with Saren. And who knows how damaged I am after what Cerberus did to me. Damn it, Anderson; you dropped the ball. Big time."

"Can't really find it in myself to regret it, though," he replied with a small smile, giving her shoulders one more squeeze before they both heard a polite cough at the brig's entrance.

Turning towards the disturbance, both Payton and Anderson laid eyes on James Vega at the same time, their pointed looks causing him to bristle a little. He brought a hand up to the back of his neck before brushing up over his still-damp mohawk. "I'm sorry for interrupting," he told them, crossing the room towards his. "If I was interrupting anything."

"I was just leaving," Anderson confirmed Vega's suspicions, managing a tight smile at the lieutenant before the quirk of his lips softened for Payton's sake. "By the way, you should go feed your fish. Evidently they've been giving the crew an impressive stink eye."

Payton's head tilted to the side. "But I -"

"You have clearance. I made sure of that. Have James take you." Anderson glanced over his shoulder at the marine, sharing another, even less prominent smile with him before twisting back to Payton. "There are a few things you should pick up anyway. It looks like you're going to be here for a while."

"Thank you," she said, shooting a grin in Vega's direction. "We'll see about visiting soon."

Before Anderson stepped away, Payton reached out to rest her hand on his forearm. "Tali's leaving in a few days. She's usually... around somewhere. I think they're starting to like her here." The look on Payton's face read clearly that everyone falling head over heels in love with the precocious quarian was all she expected. "She wants to say goodbye, but she doesn't want to disturb you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Nodding to her and then Vega, Anderson moved in the direction of the door. "Have a good day, Shepard. You, too, lieutenant."

Once he was gone, Payton took her place on the foot of the bed again, staring across the room at Vega with an expectant expression. When he didn't take the bait, she thumbed over the dark blue fabric of her uniform for a moment before speaking out on her own. "I do actually want you to see the Normandy," she said. "Standing around in the airlock while I go up to feed my fish isn't necessary."

James smiled to himself at the invitation, still worrying his hand over his hair in an attempt to dry it completely. Too much time spent in the gym had him rushing through his shower and doing a half-assed job at drying off, and he'd almost barreled over three interns and a superior officer on the way back to the detention center.

"I'd like that," he murmured, sitting down on the couch and wiping his palm on his thigh. "Everyone's excited about having the Normandy on Earth. Most of us haven't even seen it before."

"Well, she's not the original Normandy, but she's good enough." Giving a brief chuckle, Payton shook her head. "Who am I kidding? The new Normandy is a stunning ship, even with the Cerberus insignia plastered anywhere they could put it."

James grinned lopsidedly. "Like a pretty girl in an ugly dress."

"That's a _bit_ of an understatement."

"A really ugly dress?"

Payton's brows pinched inwards before a smile to match the width of his broke out on her face. "Yes, James. A really, _really_ ugly dress. But don't worry. The dress can come off; it's the rest of the shiny exterior that really counts." James' expression shifted towards surprise, and Payton couldn't help but let out a quiet string of laughter, pushing herself up off of the bed and moving towards the door. "Let's go, soldier."

Anderson was true to his word, and the two made it onto the Normandy without any trouble. The first hitch in their plan to feed the fish and get out was a familiar one, at least for Payton.

"So I'm assuming you knew about the bugs."

The voice was Joker's, coming up from the cockpit as she passed. His chair was turned towards his console, and she could see a clear view of the airlock on the orange omni-board. He'd anticipated her arrival.

Holding up a hand to tell Vega to stop walking, she made her way over to stand behind Joker's seat. "I assumed there were some," Payton murmured, fingers tapping one after another against the leather. The Illusive Man didn't exactly respect her privacy in any shape or form, after all. "What's the damage? How many were there?"

"Three."

"Well, that's not so -"

Joker cleared his throat. "In your cabin."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she leaned more heavily on the back of the seat. "What about the rest of the ship? Are you at leave to share any details?"

"They're stripping her clean, Shepard. That's all I know."

He sounded tense, uncomfortable, a complete departure from his usual snarky self. That alone made her forehead wrinkle in concern. What were they doing to the ship? "What about EDI...?"

"She gave herself up," Joker muttered through a laugh of disbelief. "She said it wasn't right to run in the background, that they would find out about her once they got to the Core and keeping her 'existence' quiet might get us into trouble. I don't know what they're doing with her. I've been up here and in my bunk."

"Don't worry about her, Jeff. I'm sure we'll get her back."

He gave another heave of laughter that she wouldn't have bought for anything. "Yeah, remember how handy the Alliance is with _virtual_ intelligence? If they're tampering with her, I'd rather them shut her off."

"I won't tell her you said that."

Joker twisted in his seat, just far enough so she could see the small smile on his face. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, thanks."

Tapping down the bill of his SR-2 hat, Payton grinned and stepped out of the cockpit with a nod of her head to James. He barely noticed, his eyes glued elsewhere, pupils blown as if he was trying to take in everything he possibly could at that very moment.

"You weren't kidding when you said she was an amazing ship, Shepard. Everything is top notch."

"The Illusive Man spared no expense," she told him, wincing just after the words left her mouth and scrubbing a hand over her face. "Which is the full truth of the matter, evidently. I can't believe how much they're taking off of the ship. Three bugs in my cabin alone must mean there's dozens of them, some better hidden than others. Ugh."

James glanced at her as they passed the galaxy map. The lights within were shut off, leaving the deck dim with a lack of the usual light from the hologram. "So he's a mouth-breather, is he?" When Payton arched a curious brow, he looked away, a low-pitched chuckle thrumming through him. "The Illusive Man. He sounds like a grade A creep, not that I'm surprised."

Payton couldn't help but shoot him an incredulous look as they stepped into the elevator. She tapped the console on instinct, going through motions she'd experienced hundreds of times before without taking note that this was James' first time on the ship.

"Oh... did you want to see the rest of the ship?" she asked. "If we have leave to get to my cabin, we should be able to see everything else."

"And let your fish starve?"

She pursed her lips. "Good point. I can show you around after."

The ride up to her cabin was short, but oddly awkward with the both of them standing on opposite sides - James with one hand clutching the wrist of the other and Payton with her arms crossed over her chest, both of them looking everywhere by the other person. Their lines of sight ended up at the door by the time the elevator slowed to a stop and the door hissed open.

She was the first one to leave, stepping out of the elevator with a couple of long strides. James was at her heels, following her close enough to make sure he didn't get closed out but far enough to not trip over her if she stopped suddenly.

Shepard's cabin was just as nice as the other parts of the ship he'd seen, all metals and shades of white and gray save for the blue glow of the fish tank. Everything was so neat and organized, as if someone followed behind her and put everything into place, as if she'd never lived there in the first place. The only sign anyone had lived in this room was the details - the dog tags on the bedside table, the lone Normandy model in the display case, the picture of her and Ashley Williams next to her personal console.

James bit back a smile as he watched Payton hurry over to the tank and press her palm against the glass. She was grinning wider than he'd seen in the past few days, a dimple carving itself in her cheek as she watched some of the fish swim over even before she dispensed the food into the tank. One even going so far as to bump up against the glass, eliciting a throaty laugh out of the commander.

"So how long have you had the fish?" he asked, shifting on his feet with his arms barred across his chest. "After you got back from the Omega 4?"

"Before," Payton replied, index finger tapping absently against the glass. "I was on the Citadel not long after I... uh, woke up, I suppose. Some krogan thought they put fish in the water, so I asked around. They didn't, but they did sell them in the wards. I snatched a few up, broke the news to the poor guy, and went on my merry way."

When she looked over her shoulder at James, he was nodding, almost as if he was impressed. "Did you ever have any pets?"

"A few dogs when I was younger, and I had a cat when I was in Basic. Never had a fish I could keep alive for more than a week, though, so kudos."

Payton shrugged as she backed away from the tank, turning towards the back of the room and taking the few stairs down into it. "They're not that difficult to take care of. You just have to feed them often, keep the tank clean. If you do that, you're home free."

Bending at the waist, she picked up the frame with her tags, the ones Liara handed over only a few weeks before. They were scarred - by time, through action; her name was barely decipherable through the wear over the years. Still, she slipped them out of the frame and pulled them on over her head.

"Shit."

The word was softly spoken, not an outburst, and the sound was tainted with equal parts surprise and what might have been awe. When she turned around, James was standing in front of the desk that hugged the side of the bedroom. His chin tilted downwards as he inspected the N7 helmet resting on the surface, though he didn't dare to touch. "A lot of people say a lot of different things about you, commander, but I'm starting to think the ones who shout masochist aren't all wrong."

Crossing over to him after tucking her tags into her uniform, Payton narrowed her eyes at the battered helmet. "That's... sweet of you to say, lieutenant."

The use of his rank snapped something in place, and he bit down on his bottom lip, brows pinching inward. "Sorry. It's just - most people wouldn't keep this kind of grisly memorabilia as..." He looked back to the desk. "A table ornament."

"I wasn't expecting company." Everything about what she said felt too soft, too passive. Her eyes were locked on a piece of intense personal history, but there was a disconnect somewhere. There was no other way she could keep it right there, right out in the open, without being effected by it. But whatever sever there was mended itself once she blinked and changed direction, peering over at him even though they were nearly standing shoulder to shoulder. "It's crucial to remember important parts of your life. I'm not sure death is part of that, but not many people have had the opportunity to test that theory."

James uttered a sarcastic 'hah hah' of a laugh, not impressed in the slightest with her explanation, but he didn't press it. After who knows how many slips that day, he didn't need another one. Offending Shepard was the last thing he wanted to do.

He took a step away from the desk, and Payton followed, giving the helmet one lingering look back before moving past him. "I can give you that tour now, _if_ you're still interested."

Ducking his head down, James laughed as he took the stairs, walking out and into the elevator at her side. "Of course I'm interested." He watched as the cabin door slid shut and the one to the elevator followed. Everything about this seemed surreal, like he was having an out of body experience and he'd wake up, drooling into his pillow, any second. Sneaking a look at her out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she was already punching in the destination. "How many chances am I gonna get to see the inside of this ship?"


	4. The First Meeting

To say that Payton was bad with children was no understatement.

This was due in no small part to her own childhood, a reflex built up from years separated from her peers. Even when she had the option to spend time with someone other than herself, she declined, preferring her own company to any amount of hair-pulling and name-calling that surrounded those in her age group. And once she hit her early teens, that frame of mind stuck.

Even now, at thirty-two, she didn't know how to conduct herself around kids. Babies she could handle. They didn't ask questions. They gurgled and cried and occasionally threw up on you, but it wasn't anything you could mess up. Not really.

So when Juliet Clarke showed her the old-fashioned photograph she kept of her little boy, Payton's only reaction was a smile. That was how people reacted to pictures of children, after all; smiling and nodding and agreeing that the two of you should meet eventually. She just hadn't expected Juliet to take what she said to heart and introduce her to Samson only a few days later.

Anyone with eyes could see that the boy was adorable, with closely cropped hair of dark, sandy blonde, wide eyes, and an open, exuberant expression. But she still felt awkward, like if she offered a handshake, she'd hurt him, and if she wasn't welcoming, she'd make him cry.

Payton stood in the hallway beside the main desk with the two of them, head and shoulders above even the kid's mother, said shoulders curving inward in an attempt to make herself seem smaller and less threatening. "It's great to finally meet you, Sam," she offered with another of her smiles. "Your mom's told me a lot about you."

The boy's brows knitted above his nose, and he glanced up at his mother. Juliet shrugged.

Samson looked back at Payton, cheeks pink, clearly nonplussed by what she'd just said. "I've been begging her to let me meet you, but she said she couldn't just sneak me in. Against the rules or whatever."

"And why's that? Any particular reason?"

He didn't answer her for a long time, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and his eyes shifting to the floor and then to the wall on the far side of the room until they finally trailed up to his mother's face again. She nodded, nudging him between his shoulder blades for support.

"Go on," she whispered, hand resting on the back of his neck to give his hair a motherly stroke. "You ought to tell her."

"I wrote a report about you," Samson confessed suddenly, ushered forth by his mother but still not confident enough to speak slowly. He rocked up onto the balls of his feet and back down again twice before he mustered the courage to look up at her. "The boys in my year had to write one about important women, and I picked you. Everyone else wrote about history. I got a B."

Payton's mouth hung open for a moment before the look of surprise shifted into a toothy grin. "Well, for one, I'm flattered you chose me. I wrote a lot of reports when I was your age, and I never expected anyone would write one about me." She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head, before she continued. "And two, a B? Wow. That's _pretty_ impressive."

"I told you she'd like that," Juliet prodded, biting her lip when she saw Samson roll his eyes. Turning back towards Payton, a proud smile lit up her face. "He actually got a B+, and that was only because he didn't format the pages correctly."

"_Mom_."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk you up in front of _the_ Commander Shepard. I should know better, what with your crush and all."

Samson's eyes snapped up to Juliet, and Payton couldn't help but laugh, both at the exchange and the boy's face, all hard lines and furrowed brows. She'd never seen someone look so offended before, and she'd worked with some pretty irritable people.

"It's alright, Sam," Payton offered. When she spoke, she could see his eyes turn to peer at her out of their corners, and eventually, he turned towards her again. "Your mom's just doing this to embarrass you. You should get used to it. My mother still calls me out like that whenever we meet someone new. It's their way of keeping you from getting a big head."

An unsure smile was all he could give her for the moment, but that was enough.

Before they could continue their conversation, a woman stepped up beside Juliet. She looked every inch the professional - blonde hair tightly coiffed and her Alliance uniform pressed and immaculate. Where Juliet was soft around the edges, this woman, younger by probably a decade, was not.

"The Committee is ready to see you, Shepard," she told her, words clipped and staccato even through her faint German accent. "Follow me."

Holding out her hand to Samson, she gave his a shake once he recovered from the interruption. "I'll talk to you some other time, Sam." She smiled, a quick turn at the corners of her mouth. "And don't let your mom embarrass you. She has the best of intentions. I promise."

The Committee's chamber was only a minute's walk away, the path familiar enough to find the room without aid of the woman who'd disappeared mere seconds after giving her the notice.

While the psychologist's room was small bordering upon smothering, it wasn't often Payton entered a room with quite this much space. The ceiling stretched on for stories overhead, and Vancouver's skyline made a beautiful background behind walls of glass, nearly making silhouettes out of the three Committee members as the sun drifted farther down in the sky.

There were similarities here that tasted of irony. Many times she stood in front of a council of three. Her past colored her expectations of this first meeting, no matter how fiercely she hoped to avoid that very thing.

She knew this meeting was only a general questioning. She knew they wouldn't attack her. They were on her side, after all, and were struggling to protect one of humanity's finest. If anything, she should have been grateful for their willingness to see her side of things, but she knew too much to say thanks.

"We are here to discuss your mission that destroyed the Bahak system," one of the committee members began. The words belonged to a man with wide shoulders and strong features only mostly shadowed, though his voice hearkened back to the distinct arrogant gravel of Udina. "Admiral Hackett assures us that the mission reports are accurate, so there is no need to rehash an already unpleasant situation."

Payton didn't so much as flinch, her arms held at her sides and her chin tilted up just enough to look at the men and the woman behind the curved desk.

The woman spoke up next, and she managed a small, cordial smile as she laced her fingers together. "You claim to have stopped the Reapers from entering the system."

"It's not only a claim. I did stop the Reapers from jumping through the relay."

Her only response was a quiet _mm_ of thought before she glanced to the man at her side. He picked up where the others left off, as if they weren't separate entities at all but limbs on a single figure. "It was a tough call, one not many would make."

Payton nodded. "Not everyone is fit to make those sorts of decisions. You can hardly weigh what I did on a scale of the choices everyone else would make."

"It also says that you attempted to warn the batarian colonies of the system's impending destruction."

"Of course I did," she said, her words defensive while the tone of her voice remained passive. Forcibly so, though the size of the room caused the nuances in her speech to dissipate as the sound spread outwards. "I have nothing against the batarians. I wouldn't sit and watch so many of them be destroyed."

One of the men adjusted the brim of his hat, pulling it just far enough upwards for her to see the solid set of his brow and clearing his line of vision towards the datapad in his hand. "Which is an opinion not many humans share."

"If you're wondering whether or not I'm racist, you need only look at my service history." Every part of her wanted to take a step forward, to raise her voice higher to stand up against these ridiculous assumptions, though she knew they were necessary. Answers were discovered by taking a purely neutral standpoint. Only when bias was shed would the committee find what they were looking for. "I have worked beside turians, krogan, asari, and salarian alike. I've spoken out when others would either keep quiet or adhere to what was expected of a leader of humanity - stilted speciesism and ignorance. While most would consider the batarian race undesirable at best, I don't believe it's my call to commit genocide."

For a long while, none of them replied. They remained quiet, balancing answers on tongues and communicating as efficiently as a well-tuned machine with little more than their eyes. After so many years and so many cases, this was all that was necessary to reach any conclusion.

But finally, it was the woman who spoke up.

"This isn't a question of your feelings towards the batarians, Shepard. We have very little concrete truth to go by, and it's not in the nature of the committee to trust the word of one woman, no matter how much she's done for humanity."

Payton glanced towards the man to her left when he continued. "And you've done very much." The platitude hung in the air as he rested the datapad down onto the desk and spread his hands on either side of it. "You understand that we want to believe you. This incarceration is a formality. The psych evaluation, this very meeting - it is, all of it, no more than a list of things we might reference when the batarian government threatens your well-being."

"I appreciate all that you've done," she told them. "But what use will I be here if the Reapers enter the system? I can't do anything when I'm grounded."

"You stalled them." A single, gray brow arched on the woman's forehead. "They are traveling millions upon millions of miles without use of a relay. You gave yourself the time we all need when you destroyed that system. The difference is that the batarians aren't aware of this fact."

Her peer nodded, quietly until he was certain she was finished. "No race in council space besides ours is aware of it. That is why we need to keep you safe. Once the Reapers do eventually arrive, we will all need you."

Payton's throat ran dry. While this was no more than she expected, the reality came crashing in with less elegance than she thought it would. Saving the entire known galaxy wasn't something someone would do before breakfast, and she hardly thought herself capable of stopping the Reaper fleet on her own. No number of heavy weapons could pull that off, not without the aid of many others.

"And I also appreciate the faith you have in the story most consider nothing more than a fantasy planted by Saren years ago."

"I was on the Citadel," one of the committee members explained, lifting his shoulders in a massive shift before letting them fall. "I saw Sovereign. The difference is that I have brains enough to not believe the Council's mindless propaganda. No one but an organization hiding the truth relies on scared, impressionable people to write their cover-up."

She knew he wanted her to tell him that she believed him, but she also knew how quickly most of the Alliance fell into stride once the bits and pieces of the once-sentient machine were cleared from the Council's chamber. She knew how quickly they dusted her off of their shoulders after her death, how only a few fought for her and none of them won in the end, how easily Kaidan spat the word traitor at her and how little Udina thought of her now.

The Alliance had been on her side during the race against Saren, but she knew what happened when she stepped out of line. Whatever blue blood ran in her veins didn't matter; she didn't know if she could willingly trust in them to that extent again.

"We've received reports from the Citadel that some people have suffered various levels of this... indoctrination. It's kept quiet, but our connections haven't left us wanting for information." The woman shifted forward on her seat, and Payton blinked up at her as the lighting in the room shifted once day shifted to night behind them. Suddenly the shadows were gone, leaving her staring up into the distinct features of the only female member of the committee. "Your report says that Dr. Amanda Kenson was indoctrinated. Is this correct?"

"It is."

She nodded once more. "And this indoctrination is from extended contact with Reaper technology?"

"As far as I know, yes. The doctor was overseeing a Reaper relic called Object Rho. Her entire crew became indoctrinated as a result."

"Did you come into contact with this artifact?"

The room seemed to grow twice its usual size as the man's question echoed in her ears, the sudden shift in questioning throwing her voice elsewhere, just far enough beyond her reach. She should have seen this coming from a mile away, but she hadn't. He'd caught her in a blind spot and dug his thumb in, burying the sweet burn of an old bruise into her skin.

Anyone heralded as a hero thought themselves invincible, and she was no excuse.

After all that happened, she had no reason to think otherwise.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Payton nodded slowly until she was able to find her words again. "Yes."

"And you've come into contact with Reaper tech before, is that correct?"

"Briefly," she pressed, backing herself up in a way she hadn't been able to mere moments before. "As far as I'm aware, it takes contact over a staggered period of time to become indoctrinated. It took months for Sovereign to indoctrinate Saren, and that was with the added cybernetics. This isn't something you should worry about in my case."

Two of the three nodded; only the man who'd asked the question remained still. "Thank you for your time, Shepard," the woman said, smiling faintly despite the tightened worry lines digging into the corners of her eyes. "You've given us a great deal to think about."

"Expect another such meeting soon. This isn't the last you've heard from us."

Nodding to the committee, Payton took a single step back before turning and walking out of the room, her strides long and determined until the doors shut behind her.

It was then - when the committee was nothing but a detached group of three she'd met not long ago and the room's details had already been pushed from her memory - that she slowed. Each step grew shorter, and her hand skimmed over the top of her head from front to back, fingers seeking something to curl around and finding nothing but the same low-hanging bun she always wore.

The path from the committee to her room was one she cut with surprising ease once she blocked out everything happening around her, every man and woman she passed and every bitter jab from her subconscious towards her ham-fisted attempt at recovering from the attempt at pinning indoctrination next to all of her other accomplishments. When all of that faded into the background, she found her way to the detention center without a single hitched stride or bumped shoulder.

And when she arrived at her destination, she found that she was alone. It took poking her head into Vega's joined room to confirm that neither him nor Anderson thought it wise to wait for damage control once her meeting with the committee was a thing of the past.

Instead of looking for either of them, Payton shut the door on her own, locking it with the password only a handful of people in the compound knew, and took her hair down. She combed her fingers through the thick black strands and removed the top of her uniform, casting it aside in favor of the gray t-shirt emblazoned with the arched insignia of the SA.

She found her way into bed, curling up on top of the navy covers and grabbing for the book tucked into her bedside table, a book of poems, recommended to her by Ash with a saucy little smile she still remembered.

_Not my typical fare, Skipper, but you'll like Neruda. I know you will._

But even indulging in a time of naivety, with no knowledge of the Reapers and indoctrination and galaxy-wide extinction, she couldn't get the thoughts out of her head, the ringing, red-tinted thoughts that, while indoctrination wasn't a current reality, it wasn't an impossibility, either.

It was the fear that wore her out. It'd been months since she felt it - that bite of bile or the cold chill buried into the lining of her stomach - and the time spent between spikes only intensified the feeling itself.

An hour was spent listlessly flipping through pages she'd already read three or four times. Before long, she dropped off, shoulders curled inward and head on her pillow, the book closed and beside her but she held onto it still. James found her that way, still wearing half of her uniform, boots twisting and pulling at the covers. Choosing not to disturb her, he dug into the footlocker instead, drawing out a blanket and snapping it out.

When the thick fabric settled over her, she shifted, body tucking in tighter with her hand still clutching the book, but she didn't wake up.

He was glad for that.


	5. Stalemate

In reality, Payton should have been on the defensive.

She should have been one with her arms curled up to block her face and gritting her teeth every time her forearms absorbed a blow. With the combined lack of sleep and stress from the trials, she should have slipped and let her guard down. She should have lost.

That wasn't the case.

She was on the offensive, dusting off James' attempts at a jab only to follow through and find nothing else, and the longer she kept at this ducking and reaching, the more frustrated she became.

He was quick on his feet. At least, he was quicker than she'd expected. Bumping her knuckles against his forearm, Payton stepped inward, fast enough to be considered an advance but not thoughtless. When he finally threw a punch, more to humor her than anything else, she countered. Her knees bent, her body twisted, and she managed a knock just above his ribs.

James stepped back, arms up, his face far more determined than what she could read from his actions. His forehead was set, the line of his brow knitted downwards and his jaw clenched just tight enough to not allow conversation. The last thing either of them needed was a distraction. If she let herself go, she'd be useless in a fight. If he did, he might hurt her. That realization came from a place of knowing himself and not one that doubted her own particular skill set. He knew she could hand his ass over on a platter if she wanted to, but this was just a friendly spar, a match between two people who often ran on adrenaline and were finally getting to know each other.

The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of her less-than-optimum mindset and give her a black eye.

None of this stopped Payton, but she was the one running on only a little sleep. Her nightmares were getting worse, a fact clear in the purplish circles beneath her eyes that were visible even through the flush of her cheeks.

James knew what exhaustion looked like, and he knew the difference between insomnia and recurring nightmares. Insomnia was hollow and quiet and never drew attention to itself, but nightmares got your blood pumping. Nightmares hit you with everything they could and turned you frantic. They brought out nervous tics you trained away years ago, and it was impossible to not watch the way Payton twisted her hair tie around her fingers and worried her bottom lip and shifted in her chair. The detention center was too quiet for him to be oblivious.

He wondered if anyone ever noticed. Those not suffering from sleep deprivation didn't know what it was like. They worried and tsked and told you to get some sleep, but they didn't know. It was always, "You should get some sleep." "You should rest." "Have you tried medication?"

How do you tell someone you're not just tired?

Not tired, but haunted.

James jerked to the right when he felt a flat-palmed smack against the side of his head, effectively snapping him back into the moment.

"Pay attention, James." He blinked a few times before he realized she was grinning at him. The skin around her eyes was tight, but she was grinning at him, shiny white teeth and all. "You won't be earning any medals sleeping on the job."

"Right," James huffed in response, which got a laugh out of the commander.

He wasn't an all bark and no bite kind of guy. In the wake of the smack, he pressed forward, throwing a careful punch only to be blocked by Payton's forearm and pulling her into a grapple only to have her slip out of his grip before he could manage to turn her around. Realizations dawned on him rapid fire, one after the other: how Shepard managed on the field even without a set of impressive muscles, how she got a reputation for climbing to ridiculous heights to get the perfect shot, how that reputation morphed into one of the most impressive sniper resumes he'd ever seen.

The woman was light on her feet, and she had limbs for days. That didn't exactly make the spar any easier.

In the end, they called stalemate, if only because Payton was too accommodating and Vega was too stubborn to admit defeat. The less-than-perfect ending wasn't enough to keep him from chuckling his way towards the empty locker room, however. When she shot him a questioning look, a thick brow arched high on her forehead, he grinned. "I don't know why, but I always expected you to have biotics."

Payton stared at James for a moment, head tilted to the side, before laughing under her breath. "Nope. No biotics," she said as she continued wiping at the back of her neck with her towel. "I'm sure it would've been easier on your ego if you lost because of my biotics and not my superior -"

James lifted up a hand before shaking his head. "Hey, we were sparring. I didn't 'lose' anything."

"- and not my superior boxing skills."

He chuckled at that. "You've got how many years on me, Shepard?"

"Hey now," Payton warned, "don't go there."

"Point taken."

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at him, she crossed the room to sit on the low-lying bench at the very center. "You'd have won if you weren't holding back." Her eyes were on him as he threw a leg over the same bench and sat down in front of her, a cocky little smile taking up the corner of his mouth. "All that machismo has got to screw up your maneuvering."

A flicker of surprise hit his expression, but the smile was back in the next moment. "Next time, I won't hold back then. How's that?"

Payton shrugged. "It's up to you."

"I guess I should know better, huh? You've been taking punches from krogan for how long?"

Her face creased in a laugh, and she scrubbed a hand over her forehead. "Yeah, but concussions and bruises every color of the rainbow aren't really the point of a spar."

"You weren't even on your game today, Shepard." James watched her forehead wrinkle as her brows shifted upwards, but her smile didn't falter. "You're distracted. Bad. What's up?"

Payton stared at him as if she was considering his words, the little grin finally disappearing only to be replaced by pursed lips. "There's nothing you don't already know. I have issues with the Committee. There's nothing..." She trailed off, fingers twisting at the towel in her hands. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your head wasn't in it," he explained; casually, as if the truth in his statement was obvious. "I've gotten physical with my share of hardass lady marines and - shit."

Laughter bubbled out of the woman sitting across from him, and James could feel his face heating up. "My damn mouth," he muttered, pawing at the back of his neck. "I didn't mean it like that, sir. Just saying - I've sparred with a few in my time, and you've got to know at least a dozen ways to get me crying for my mom."

"You're wrong," she told him, "I've never been really good at hand-to-hand. I'm a sniper, remember? Up close and personal isn't really my speciality, which is how I know you were taking it easy on me."

"Well..." Tilting his head from one side to the other, James weighed his options. Tell the truth or make an excuse, look patronizing or incompetant - it was all up in the air. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, still waiting for her to get sick of him and stop humoring whatever he had to throw at her. "I guess it was just some kind of unconscious decision to keep you in fighting shape."

Payton sighed at that, and the deeply felt exhale deflated her, wide shoulders caving in as best they could given her almost pin-straight posture. "That shouldn't matter. I told you to let me have it, so let me have it."

"No thanks. There are a lot of things I don't wannna explain to the Admiral, and why I had the nerve to slug you is one of them."

"What's the point? I could walk into a Committee meeting with you on my back and it wouldn't matter," she said as she drew her leg up to slide it over the bench to match his position. Their knees were only a foot apart, but that didn't keep her from leaning forward. "They haven't said a word about letting me go. I might as well throw them for a loop."

"Who are you, and what did you do with Commander Shepard?"

Payton's brows twitched inwards. "What?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you this frustrated with the Committee." Scratching at the bridge of his nose, James shrugged. "Not that I'm surprised. They're not even stalling anymore. They're going backwards."

"And taking me with them."

The look on Payton's face was what bothered him. Even with nerves frayed by sleepless nights, she looked almost defeated. Even with the flush of exertion turning her pale skin pink and the adrenaline urging her muscles to flex and her body to move, there was a distinct lack of something that had always been there, obvious enough to reflect back in the vids and pictures he remembered.

Leaning away from her but not moving from the bench, James' hands settled on his thighs. "If I was in your position-"

"How would you react differently, James?" she bit back. Her tone was unintentional, but she refused to renege on what she'd said now. "How? Tell them to change their mind? To give me my ship back and let me go without even a slap on the wrist?"

"I'd be pissed off!"

Her own defensive position struck one from him in response, and he lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. When he continued, the hand remained suspended in mid-air, fingers splaying to accentuate his point. "After all you've done, they're shuffling their feet to get you back out there!"

"They didn't put me in the corner to think about what I've done, lieutenant," Payton replied, words quick and crisp. "This is due process. They can't speed it up."

"But they can sure as hell slow it down. What use is that?"

Payton opened her mouth, but snapped it shut when James continued. "Look, you don't need to come up with excuses for me. I'm not interested. What I am interested in is how they've got you on a leash while they figure out what to do with you. It's screwed up."

"I don't have the luxury of questioning them." Rubbing between her eyebrows, she shook her head. "I know I shouldn't be here, but there's nothing I can do. Nothing. If I wasn't on Earth for this trial, I'd probably be dead already. Batarians aren't subtle, but there are scores of people on the Citadel who wouldn't like the idea of a human wiping out an entire system of aliens."

They were both too stubborn to budge. That much was becoming increasingly obvious.

What James wanted and what Payton wanted branched off in opposite directions, and neither of them was interested in shaking it off to make their conversation any easier. Before long, after staring and waiting for him to say something, Payton shook her head and lifted herself up off of the bench. She wasn't interested in arguing with him. There was a part of her - the part that drove her through Akuze and everything after - that bordered upon patronizing. How could anyone _get it_?

Idling near the half-open locker she'd commandeered as her own, she worried at her bottom lip.

"I should drop by Anderson's office before dinner," she said, gripping at the towel still in her hands and shifting on her feet. "I'll see you in the mess?"

James looked over at her with a half-hearted smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there."

Payton was gone not long after that, not bothering to say another word but managing a tight smile of her own. There was no animosity between them. Frustration bled through on his end and she worked tirelessly to keep her head on straight, but neither of them were angry.

There was no real reason to be.

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><p><strong>AN:** Apologies for taking so long to update! SWTOR has been keeping me ridiculous kinds of distracted lately, and I'm still trying to mop up a few saves before the release of ME3. There should be one or two more chapters of this fic before then, however! Thank you again all for the favs, watches, and reviews! :D


	6. Entertaining Questions

Tali knew what being stared at felt like.

Twice now, she had traveled with Shepard on a time-sensitive mission, traversing planets from the uninhabited to the crowded, the lone quarian on a ship full of humans and other aliens. Without meaning to, she stuck out in a crowd, even standing between the shoulders of Garrus and Wrex or Grunt.

With so much experience of being watched under her belt, she could nearly pinpoint exactly where the eyes were coming from when she felt a set on her in the mess.

Staring down at her omni-tool, Tali shifted in her seat in a feeble shot at ignore James. Even with the orange screen lifted up higher to show she was indisposed, he didn't look away. After of a solid week of his attempts at conversation, there was no escaping the reality of the situation. He was going to talk to her. Or, rather, he was going to ask her questions. She never thought she would start counting down the days until she left for the Fleet.

James wasn't going to be shafted, however.

Popping another few cashews into his mouth, he lifted himself out of his chair and pulled out the one directly in front of her. He sat down with a quiet sigh, but even the chair's legs on the floor and the frustrated edge to the sound he made didn't get her attention.

"Do you always poke at people until you get their attention?" Tali muttered, her fingers working at the omni-tool until the orange glow dissolved. Her helmet snapped up, the mouthpiece lighting up as she let out an exasperated noise. "That's really rude, by the way. If you do."

"Not really," James told her with a half-smile. "Most people just pay attention. I don't usually have to ask."

He saw the white of her eyes narrow, but the chuckle that followed eased his initial worry that he'd not stepped, but vaulted over some kind of line. "Every time you open your mouth, you sound more and more like Garrus."

"I'm hoping that's a compliment."

Rolling her eyes, Tali crossed her hands on her lap. Her fingers tapped absently on her thigh, and she shook her head. "It is." She paused, brow ridge furrowing. "I think."

James laughed, digging a nut out of his cupped hand and twisting it between his index and thumb. "You think? That doesn't inspire a lot of confidence..."

"What do you want?"

There was a hint of amusement in her deadened tone, and in the end, that's what ushered James forward, his chest pressed against the edge of the table and his voice lowered. The suspicious look alone was enough for Tali to know exactly what he was going to ask. "I wanted to ask you about Shepard."

Breathing out a huff of, "Keelah," Tali's shoulders curled inward. "Why am I not surprised?" James' brows shot up, but flattened again when she continued. "You've only hinted that you have questions about her for the past three days. Yes, I knew what you wanted to ask. No, I'm not going to tell you anything."

"Why the hell not?" James shot back, though his words remained quiet. He wasn't about to yell at her, but his surprise at being found out was enough for some annoyance to creep into his voice. He knew better than anyone that he failed the course in subtlety; he just hadn't realized even a quarian could read him like an open book. "It's nothing weird. I just wanna know a few things."

Tali's head shifted from one side to the other and crossed her arms in a way that could have been described as sassy. "If it's not weird, why don't you ask her?"

"I can't just -" Rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand, James shrugged. His body language was even easier to read than his face, the way he moved around, like he was being interrogated or he wasn't completely sure if the questions were actually weird or not. "I've got to look out for her. Admiral's orders. And... well, have you ever tried asking her stuff? That shit is _not _easy."

"Trust me," Tali told him, her helmet drifting up and down in a vague nod. "If anyone knows how difficult asking her things can be, I can. And you just want to ask a few personal questions. I asked her for things that put her and her crew into danger."

James' cocky half-smile had disappeared a while before, but the corner of his mouth twisted up at that. "In my own experience, that's a lot easier than personal questions."

The sigh Tali gave caused James to nearly light up. He knew when he'd won someone over, and that sigh was definitely a familiar one. "Fine. I'll bite, but you only get three questions. And you can't tell Shepard that I told you anything."

"You're safe, Tali. Promise."

"I'm really not, but come on. Ask away."

James took a slow, deep breath. Three questions. He only had three questions, and he wanted so many answers. Tali would see through compound questions in a second. She also wouldn't entertain questions that were too personal. All in all, he had to be careful, or he would miss out on an opportunity to get to know Payton better indirectly. He hated resorting to this when she was right in front of him, but he was having a hell of a time talking to her these days.

He wanted to know how Shepard worked. He wanted to know what she was like when adrenaline was pumping and her life was on the line. He wanted to know if her structured personality held up or if that was all a front for the Committee. He wanted to know if she became a different person if she was holding onto her sniper rifle, if she became less uptight and more ruthlessly efficient or if she became a saint. Everything he'd read about her since Fehl was mixed. He read about how hard she worked in the weeks after the attack on the Citadel, but he also saw the interview only a few months prior, one of the few documented moments of her 'losing her cool' and 'steamrolling' a popular face on the galaxy's news circuit.

No matter how much he read and heard and watched, he still didn't know who Payton was beyond the woman with a knack at saving the galaxy.

"Where do I even start?" James murmured to himself, his index rolling around the remaining cashews as he stared at the table beneath his arms.

"Is that a-"

His head snapped up. "No, that's not a question. I was talking to myself. I just... wow, I don't know what I even wanted to ask anymore. I just wanted to talk to you about her, figure out a few things. I didn't want to interview you."

"Okay, okay, sorry." Lifting her hands in a pacifying gesture, Tali laughed to herself. "I didn't mean to make you get so anxious."

"Yeah, you expect me to believe that?"

He could hear a smile in her voice. "Good point."

"I just want to know how she's so calm." There was a measure of defeat in James' tone, like he'd given up trying to figure the answer out on his own and didn't like forking any questions over behind Shepard's back. "Anderson filled me in on what I missed on the way here, and I'm pretty sure I've gotten a few gray hairs just thinking about it. But she's so... _zen_."

"Ooh." The white light at the mouth of Tali's helmet flickered. "Right. Well, I can't answer that one. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't. She's always been like that from what I can tell."

James deflated. Head tilting back and the apple of his throat bouncing as he swallowed, he stared up at the ceiling of the mess.

"Maybe it has something to do with her upbringing?" Tali ventured, hoping her explanation might be of some help. She felt bad for James. After spending so many years with Shepard, everything seemed usual to her. Shepard's no nonsense attitude, the way she followed orders to the letter and only got angry at herself when things didn't go right. She'd overheard Kaidan talking to her about it a few times at his console on the original Normandy, about how dangerous internalizing everything was. While Payton never listened to his advice, she always thanked. "I'm only so interested in tech because of the Fleet, and her mother is part of the Alliance."

Shaking his head, James relaxed in his chair, smiling another small smile at Tali. "I've met a lot of spacer kids. Most of them end up acting out just because they're tired of all the rules."

"Most of them, maybe," Tali said. "But everyone's different."

A huff of laughter left the lieutenant. "If I was in her shoes, you'd know just how different people can be."

"Then I'm thankful you're not. Otherwise, we might not be sitting here right now. It's... important that she is the way she is. For everyone."

James stared at Tali for a long moment, thoughts of all sizes whirling around in his head. For the longest, he'd expected Shepard to be simple. At face value, she seemed like she would be. She was an Alliance sniper, born and raised as part of the fleet. With every soldier came either a squeaky clean service history or one they hid beneath their other commendations. Payton had the latter, though many claimed she only grew into her command position after the trouble on Akuze. She looked Alliance and talked Alliance, but she lacked the air of inefficiency that everyone else pulled around with them.

The people claiming she got stronger after the Thresher incident were the ones admitting that this was because she didn't want to lose anyone else.

"I just don't get it. If anyone else was going through what she is, not even just me, things would be different. There'd be trouble."

Tali blinked.

"She's grounded and under investigation because she's suspected of destroying an entire system of planets." Her deadpan made James roll his eyes, but she was right. "I know that's not what you meant, but the Commander has enough problems. She doesn't need to stick on 'bad attitude,' too."

"I just don't _get_ her."

That made Tali laugh. "Why do you want to get her?"

James' shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug, and he made a grab for his cup of water, tipping the rest into his mouth despite the drink being warm. "I know that's not my job, but she's a big deal. I've been Alliance for years, and I've known who she was for most of them. I'm not saying I'm some slobbering fanboy. I just have a... vested interest in knowing how she hasn't cracked."

A less-than-comfortable silence settled between them. Tali knew the things Shepard had to deal with, even from civilians that knew her in passing. She'd seen the looks, the intrusive drink offers, the interviews that never ended well. And while Payton could take care of herself, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of protectiveness at James' interest, no matter how innocent it might have been.

"Why?"

"I thought..." James sighed again, heavily this time. "I thought I was the one asking the questions. That was the point, right?"

Tali's brow ridge furrowed. After spending so much time around humans, she knew what they looked like when they didn't want to talk about something. She'd seen the skin around Payton's eyes get tight, her muscles going tense and a brittleness biting into her voice. Kaidan got that way, as well, and James wasn't too different.

Her mouth was opening to move the topic of conversation along when she saw James look up and then beyond her. His change in direction was followed by a tall shadow cast from behind her shoulders.

"You haven't answered any of my messages." Payton's voice was soft; casual, even. "I was hoping we'd get to talk before you left tonight."

"Sorry," Tali replied quickly, an embarrassed laugh woven into the word. She twisted just enough in her chair to watch as Payton pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. "I turned off my omni-tool, and I haven't checked it in a while."

The corner of Shepard's mouth quirked up, but she wasn't looking at Tali. "Thank you for keeping her company."

James nodded. "It's not a problem."

Glancing between them both, Tali swallowed back a sigh. It figured that Payton would show up before she figured out why James was so interested in her. She knew what physical interest looked like, and it was nowhere to be found in the almost passive way he stared at her. Thoughtful, but not predatory. She'd seen someone actively pursue her before, and this wasn't how it happened. Why was he so bothered, then?

Payton ignored James' sigh and chose to look towards Tali instead. "I wasn't going to ask, but... what were you talking about?"

"She was telling me about the Flotilla," James told her, elbows bent and resting on the table. "The Rayya in particular. Sounds like a hell of a fleet. Seeing it must've been something else."

"Yep. That's exactly what we were talking about." Tali's helmet bounced in a nod.

Arching a brow, Shepard accepted that excuse without batting an eyelash. All Tali would talk about for the first few months was the Fleet. She wouldn't put talking James' ear off about her home past her. "Anything else?"

"No...!"

"Well-"

Tali snapped her head towards James, who shrugged. "I was just asking her some things. Didn't want to bug you. You're busy enough."

"If you have anything to ask me, I don't mind," Payton told him. "I have a lot of free time. My meetings with the Committee have gotten longer, but I don't talk to them every day."

"It's not a big deal," he told her with a half-smile.

And while Tali wanted nothing more than to tell her that was a lie, she didn't know the full truth. Saying something like that was no way to make friends, and it was clear James didn't deal well with awkward situations. "You have to watch out for him, Shepard," she blurted out instead. "Whatever happens, I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of him. So treat him like you treat us. On the Normandy."

A surprised smile spread across Payton's face. She knew Tali was the sort to make friends quickly, but she hadn't expected this. James was just a soldier, a man brought in to make sure she didn't go anywhere. He must've made quite the impression on her.

"I'm not sure James needs my-"

"See you around then, _Admiral_."

The snarky edge to his voice made Tali scoff, but even though he couldn't see her face through the nearly opaque purple visor, James knew she was smiling. She hated being called out on her new (if temporary) title. He discovered that much early on.

Then again, he didn't like being called out in front of Shepard, either.


	7. Faith and Hope

**A/N:** I just wanted to say thank you to those who've read this story! This is the end, m'afraid. For now, at least. Once ME3 is released, I have a full-fledged project waiting in the wings. **Parallels and Divergences**' first chapter will be posted in March, after I've got a handle on the game and can get something done that sticks to actual canon. I've had a _lot_ of fun writing this, and I hope you guys enjoy the final bite of this appetizer!

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><p>"I think the Committee's stalling," James told her almost two weeks before.<p>

Standing in the antechamber attached to the reception hall for the fifth meeting, Payton mentally commended the lieutenant. She had been too quick to assume they were only doing their job, doing what they could for her benefit as well as the benefit of the Alliance. But after five long sessions answering questions that didn't even seem pertinent to her, she was certain James was right.

They wanted answers she couldn't give them, and they seemed content with drawing the investigation out until she could. Payton gave them the absolute truth without hesitation, rattling off numbers and dates and explanations as if she had them prepared before hand.

She had no reason to lie to the Committee. In some way, she felt that this gave her an advantage.

Hands laced in front of her, she stood very still, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her uniform, eyes lifting from the floor until her chin was tilted upwards. She wet her lips, and she waited for one of the Committee's many secretaries to open the door and tell her to enter.

Idly, she wondered which questions the Committee would ask her today.

They had dismissed a lasting affiliation with Cerberus in the second meeting. Payton's patriotism didn't extend into zealotry. Her motley crew of aliens and the fondness she had for them could attest to that much.

In the third meeting, they broached the topic of the two years she spent "under the radar." While they were eager to mark her as KIA in official records, the idea of her death and subsequent rebirth wasn't an easy concept to swallow. A fact she agreed with. No matter her good deeds, the concept of rebirth was one closely related to many of Earth's religions. And even with the advances in science with their species' assimilation into the galactic community, coming back from the dead was still regarded as impossible.

The fourth meeting had been only a few days prior, and it closed on a wholly bad note. A handful of aliens with little political sway on the Citadel got wind of the ticking time bomb that was relations between the humans and the batarians, and they were eager to fix things as best they could. That meant campaigning for the Alliance to hand over their hero, to put a solid close to a confrontation that would all but destroy the Terminus systems at an important time.

What began as batarians crying out for human blood became aliens crying out for the blood of a woman painted on the extranet as a terrorist. The groups were small, but vocal. They got the attention of a few aliens who considered themselves supporters of the oppressed and endangered. The wiping out of an entire batarian system seemed like a worthy cause.

The question the Committee posed was no longer, "What can we do to protect you?"

It was, "How long can we protect you? And is it worth it?"

The Committee never told her this directly. For every person on the extranet dragging Shepard's name through the gutter, there was someone willing to go to any lengths to pick that name up and wash it off. She had supporters in spades, in almost every corner of the galaxy and in the most unlikely places, and they were just as loud.

Every scathing video by an asari pundit was met by a response from a salarian whose life she saved. Every drawn-out post written from an anonymous source was countered by people who'd seen the good she was capable of doing.

James relayed the good to her sometimes, pointedly avoiding the bad despite knowing she could take whatever the extranet threw at her.

Only the night before, they'd watched a vid posted by a familiar turian. The runtime was long, leading Payton to tuck in close enough to watch it on James' omni-tool, but whatever discomfort she felt from being so close melted away over the hour she spent like that. Not because of James, but because of Sidonis.

He didn't ask questions when he heard her make a quiet, wet sound in her throat. Whatever he might have asked was answered by the story the turian relayed. His voice was hoarse and tired, and he sat hunched over his own console as he told the extranet his story. Details were missing in the most obvious of ways, but he was genuine. So genuine that even James felt a burning tightness in his chest when the vid was finished.

Mainstream news channels were mum on Shepard's story, an after effect of the Council's involvement, but everyone knew what happened. Payton found it odd that she'd actually died a hero three years before and no one knew truth from rumor. But the moment she screwed up, everyone was aware of her mistakes. Everyone cared.

Her faith in the Alliance was an immovable one, but her faith in the Committee was waning. She knew she would be more helpful in the air. There must have been measures she could take, a helping hand she could extend or information she could share that would help. She knew more about the coming invasion than anyone in the galaxy. Putting her thoughts in line wasn't the difficult part. The difficulty rested with making people listen.

But instead of standing at the helm of a fleet, instead of flying in between systems and making people aware of what was bound to happen, she was grounded. Her wings were clipped, and she was tied to Vancouver, to a Committee that didn't believe the threat was any more than that.

To them, the idea of the Reaper invasion as an immediate issue was difficult to wrap their heads around. Throughout human history, apocalypses were diverted time and time again. Every time someone on the corner shouted that the world would end, nothing would change. Panic would spike and books would be written and films would be made, but the world never truly ended. If anything, Earth would be destroyed by the human race itself, not by religious phenomena.

Shepard was Cassandra, shouting out prophecies no one else could see. Claiming she knew the truth about the fall of humanity, of every race in the known galaxy, only led to disbelief. It led to the Council humoring her. The Committee feared what she had to say, but the Reapers weren't an inevitability to them. They were an obstacle, something they could block out or overcome and move on with their lives.

Anderson trusted her. She had a feeling that James did, as well. She didn't know if they believed all she had to say or not, but she knew Anderson would follow her if she asked. The rapport they built up over the years aided that conclusion.

When the doors in front of her opened, Payton tilted her chin back down and blinked into the bright sunlight pouring through. It blotted out the glow of the artificial light bhehind her, swallowing the shadow she cast at her feet in a quick rush. Her fingers knotted tighter around each other before falling to her sides as she stepped into the room, nodding to the familiar secretary before looking towards the Committee.

The flat heels of her shoes made little noise, but it was enough to pull the attention of the men and women seated behind the two rows of desks on either side of the wall, watching her as she moved closer to the Committee.

While the reception room was silent, the air hummed with anticipation so thick she could almost feel it closing in around the soft blue fabric of her uniform. But she was used to this. The first meeting had been conducted alone, between her and the three members of the Committee. The second introduced twin lines of men and women seemingly focused on their work despite their ears being open to everything Shepard had to say.

"Shepard," the man on the far right began with a courteous nod.

Payton managed a small nod and an even smaller smile.

"We've recently heard troubling rumors from the Terminus Systems," the man next to him said, his tone clipped and his posture even more rigid than it usually was. "They originated on Omega. Evidently, there's been war. There has been little to no mention of the trouble in mainstream media due to its location and the strength of Aria T'Loak's pride."

The female Committee-member bristled. "This meeting is not, however, about any affiliation of yours with her or anyone on the station. It is the core of the confrontation that worries us." Lacing her fingers together, she shifted forward in her chair, peering down at Payton with what appeared to be a look of concern. "You told us that you destroyed the Collector station."

"I did," Payton told them carefully, her voice strong despite the waver of confusion that flickered through her person.

"It seems that you did not destroy everything," the man in the center said. His dry tone grated against her. If his barely concealed animosity hadn't been aimed towards her, she might have been quick to compare him to her mother. "Cerberus has Collector technology. Humans working for Aria T'Loak have told us this much, out of patriotism."

Payton shook her head, brow furrowing. "We had to leave. My crew was wounded, and the bomb was minutes from going off. Patching ourselves up, taking care of the dead, and getting out of there were the only important things at the time. I didn't have the luxury of waiting around to pick through the fallout."

"Is it possible that this may be the vanguard forces of the Reaper fleet?"

Whatever hushed whispering had arose since the meeting began hushed suddenly, so suddenly that it nearly left her breathless. "I don't know," Payton confessed. "I suppose it could be another wave, another... shot at taking a hit at our population. It makes sense, but Sovereign was the true vanguard. A scout, almost."

When they said nothing, Payton took a step forward. "I'm not sure what you're expecting me to say. I don't know much about the Reapers." She paused, swallowing hard before she could continue. Even in her reports, she'd never gone on in length about the Reapers. Everything was clipped, a few words here and there, a simple explanation of a complex thing. "I don't know how their fleet works, their tactics. All I know is that there's a lot of them. I'm sorry; I wish I could tell you more."

_But the Reapers aren't only after humans_, she tried to tell them. Only recently had the Collectors even started targeting their species. They had been going after aliens for centuries, maybe even more. What was important was safe-guarding what they could, defending what they couldn't, and fighting for everything else.

Every meeting with the Committee left Payton feeling more and more tired. She was barely sleeping as it is, preferring fatigue to the hallow mechanical echo and blinding red of her dreams. They were getting longer now; the clanging and crying and scraping had become familiar, but the nightmares were no less jarring. It was the sense of unease that followed them that kept her awake through most nights, surviving on one or two cumulative hours. Only after workouts with James, once the adrenaline died down and her body slowed, did exhaustion force her into REM sleep.

Or the days she met with the Committee.

Once the doors closed behind her, Payton set off in a beeline for the detention center. Everything seemed so pointless. The questions they asked had nothing to do with the Reapers. They were about present threats, dangers they knew she'd seen during her months working for Cerberus. They asked her about the Illusive Man, about the state of the Terminus Systems, about the Collectors. While the Reaper attack was a constant background theme, that was the most attention the danger received.

She wasn't on her way to the detention center to rest. Sleep could (and would) wait. The meeting ran longer than expected, and she was late. Hurriedly changing into her casuals, Payton let her hair down, shook it out with her fingers, and grabbed for the model on her beside table.

Even though she wouldn't forget the promise she'd made for anything, she left the model there as a reminder. One that said, "You have somewhere important to be."

The trek to Juliet's office was a short one. Even though the hallways were crowded, she slipped through the oncoming and going traffic as if she was a woman half her size. Ms. Clarke shared an office with two others only a few hallways away from the detention center, and once Payton rounded the corner, she saw two legs poking out of the doorway.

Samson sat on the ground, only looking up from his homework when a shadow grew over him and ruined the lighting.

When he saw the shadow was Shepard's fault and not some random stranger, the boy's features lit up. He shut his book with a snap and hurried to his feet. "Mom!" he shouted back into the room. "She's here!" At Juliet's called response of, "have fun!" Sam's smile faltered and his cheeks went pink, a notable improvement after the scarlet color Payton remembered from their first meeting.

With the Committee riding her as they were, she found a certain solace in her quick friendship with the boy. While it had been awkward at first, mostly on his part but also on her own, things shaped up over a span of only a few conversations.

They walked together until they left the building, making their way out into a neatly tended atrium between the tall buildings. Sam still held the book in his arms as he pointedly ignored the way she concealed the model behind her back. She had promised she would bring him something, but never specified what. He didn't want to ruin the surprise.

"So," she began, a tiny smile curling at the corner of her mouth as he sat down on one of the benches. She stood in front of him, fingers toying with the ship in her hands. "I got clearance from the Admiral to sneak onto the Normandy. I promised I'd bring you something, something no one else you know has, so here it is."

Pulling the model from behind her back, she showed her choice to him, and a warmth flooded through her at the look of utter, unadulterated delight took him.

When he grabbed for the model of the Normandy, he did so with a gentle reverence, like the thing would break apart in his hands if he handled it too harshly. "Wow," he breathed, twisting the replica in his hands and inspecting every inch with a furrowed brow. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome," Payton said with a quiet laugh. She folded her arms and actually felt herself relax for the first time in forever. "This little model has been all sorts of places. It's been past the Omega 4 Relay. I bet none of your friends have something that's been there."

"None of my friends have been off Earth," he told her, though he didn't look up from the Normandy. "All of our parents are Alliance. Most of them haven't left, either."

Payton pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and looked around, eyes squinting at the sun. She had a difficult time putting herself in the mindset of someone who had never left Earth. Most of what she actually remembered was the Citadel. Space stations, ships, the rare human colony - these were home for most of her life. All of it, if anyone asked her. She couldn't imagine a life stuck on the ground, no matter how much instability she suffered throughout her formative years and beyond.

Pulling her eyes away from the sky, she turned her chin back down to look at Samson, her tiny smile turning into a grin. "You've seen recruitment vids, haven't you? I imagine they've got tons lying around here."

"I have, yeah! Mom keeps a bunch of them in her office. I think she wants me to join up. I might. It depends."

"Well," Payton interrupted him, twisting to look out into the yard. "Maybe you should put the Normandy through the motions. I'm sure you've memorized some flight jargon by now, haven't you?"

Samson nearly jumped to his feet, darting out onto the yard and nearly running into Anderson in the process. The Admiral swerved out of the way, reflexes as deft as ever, and chuckled. "_Whoa_." He patted the boy on his shoulder. "If you're trying to be a pilot, you ought to look out for asteroids."

"Or enemy forces!" Samson cheered, cheeks puffing out as the Normandy dove and shot what sounded like half its munitions right into Anderson's stomach.

Anderson laughed at that, shooting a pained look at Payton before replying with a strained, "Or those," as he clutched at his side.

Content with his victory, Samson took off in the other direction, leaving the Admiral to sit down next to Payton on the bench. "You had the guts to tell Joker about his replacement, I hope."

"I think Sam's got a few years, so I'll break the news to Jeff slowly."

Anderson looked over at her, focusing on her profile as she watched the boy run around the yard. "I never knew you liked kids," he said, voice pitched low enough to make sure Samson didn't hear their discussion. "In fact, I remember you saying you don't want them."

"I don't," she shrugged. "It's not about that. I just want to give him something I had when I was growing up. Maybe if he has the Normandy, he'll enlist. See the stars like I did."

"He might not get the opportunity."

Payton's brows knitted over her nose. "Did you come here to make an already bad day worse?" Breathing out a sigh, she shook her head. "I suppose some of this is about me. Maybe if I know one kid has a future, a solid future, things can't go bad. Something has to be here so he can be a commander some day. Maybe even an Admiral."

"So he's gonna replace me, too?" His attention shifted from her face to Samson again. The boy wasn't running anymore. He was standing with the hand holding the Normandy up into the air, one eye squinted so it looked like the ship was flying. "I wasn't... I didn't mean to rain on your parade, Payton. You getting all sentimental over a kid took me by surprise."

"I just miss the old days. That's all."

Anderson huffed, but a laugh could be heard through the noise of offense. "You're too damn young to want to go back to the 'old days.' Anyway, the 'old days' involves Saren and geth and Akuze, and you don't want any of that back in your life."

He was right, of course. There was nothing she wouldn't give to be back on Anderson's Normandy, before Eden Prime and long after the mess on Akuze. Before Saren, before the Reapers, before everything had an expiration date.

"I miss the days when I was just fighting for myself," she clarified, and Anderson heard a dry break on the final word.

Anderson didn't say anything. He knew there was nothing he could say. Diplomacy wasn't one of his strong points, and his grasp of tact was even weaker. All he thought to do was raise a hand and settle it between her shoulder blades, giving her back a comforting mixture of a rub and a pat.

Before long, Samson ran over to thank her for the model again. He gave her a hug this time, arms slung around her shoulders, and ran off to meet his mother. James showed up a few minutes later to see if she was going to the mess.

Her smile was tired when she nodded, and her fingers curled too tightly around Anderson's forearm when she told him she'd see him later.

That was the last time she spoke to him before the day the Reapers arrived.


End file.
